


be my keeper

by flowermasters



Series: lady kylo ren (and her general) [29]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dissociation, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pregnancy, References to Canon-Typical Violence, References to Illness, married people doing married things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 20:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowermasters/pseuds/flowermasters
Summary: A curious sense of restlessness has come over him, bordering on unease, though he doesn’t know why.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, it's been a while. School, y'all. School.
> 
> Warnings for: cisgirl Kylo, part of an established 'verse, pregnancy, mild references to past violence, sex, ~feelings~.
> 
> Also: tumblr user dagobaby made [character aesthetics](http://dagobaby.tumblr.com/post/158495098143/character-aesthetics-for-kylo-hux-padme-sabine) for this brood, which are lovely.

Hux has checked on the children twice now. He’s not sure why.

It’s different now that they have their own room. Just a few months ago, they still slept in the kitchen, their cots inches apart from one another. Hux had always been able to keep an eye on the children that way, as he lacks Kylo’s sixth sense for it. When they were still babies, Hux could work at the kitchen table while Padmé peeked at him through the bars of her crib, always feigning sleep when he turned to look at her – like a game. Sometimes, when Hux woke in the middle of the night, he would hear Daniel cooing; checking on him would inevitably reveal him lying there looking at nothing, but greatly entertained by it. The bigger the two of them got, however, the less sustainable that arrangement became.

(Kylo had briefly gotten it into her head that she could build them a room herself, but Hux put his foot down and assembled a few villagers. A little shed for projects is one thing; the room where their children sleep is quite another.)

Looking in on the children now, Hux finds their status mostly unchanged. Padmé has rolled over in her sleep, one bare foot poking out from under her blankets. Hux steps into the room to better tuck her in; she always wakes with the idea that somebody’s going to grab hold of her ankles in the night and pull, despite Hux’s assurances that he would never allow that to happen. Millicent, previously nothing more than an orange lump at the foot of Daniel’s bed, lifts her head to look at Hux. He half-expects her to follow him from the room, but she doesn’t, merely meowing softly and settling back down.

His datapad waits for him at the kitchen table, the screen dim after a few moments of inactivity. When he sits down and powers it back on, it beeps at him warningly. Though it’s never been the sort of high-caliber technology he’s used to, the pad has been acting up more than usual recently; Hux is tempted to take it apart and see if he can discern the problem, but he lacks the patience for it tonight. A curious sense of restlessness has come over him, bordering on unease, though he doesn’t know why.

That’s a lie. He knows why things don’t feel right; it’s because Kylo isn’t around to pester him. Kylo exists at a constant low level of noise, unless she’s actively trying to be quiet – which she’s actually very good at, being a trained killer and all. At this hour, she’d likely be next to Hux at the kitchen table, busying herself with some task and pilfering sips of Hux’s tea, despite never having developed a real fondness for it herself. If he’s being honest – even if only with himself – this feeling has been simmering since they got home. Every time their usual routine has been broken, every time they’ve walked on eggshells around one another, Hux has noted a persistent feeling of _not right_ – he can’t accurately name it, but it’s present. It’s only now, over a week later, that the sensation has reached its boiling point.

The pad beeps at him morosely, and Hux resists the urge to curse at it. He’s a grown man; he will not throw a temper tantrum over the failings of an inanimate object. He’ll be proactive about it. This is one situation, at least, that he can confront head-on.

It takes about two minutes to put on his coat and boots. Incidentally, he finds one of Millicent’s little toys in his right boot, where either she or Daniel must have placed it for safekeeping. Better that than something else, at least – one never knows with that little beast. Tucking the datapad into his coat, Hux braces himself before opening the door and stepping outside. It’s snowing only mildly, but the wind is vicious, chapping his cheeks in seconds. Hux tucks his face into the collar of his coat as best he can and trudges forward, toward the glow emanating from the crack around the door to Kylo’s workshop.

Thanks to the snow, the door sticks a bit when he tugs it open, making Hux’s entry a bit more conspicuous than he might have hoped for. It hardly matters, since Kylo must’ve sensed him coming, but it’s the principle of the thing.

Kylo’s sitting at her workbench, of course, bent over PD, the children’s playmate droid. Millicent had, in a fit of either jealousy or boredom, pulled the little droid’s optic circuits out. Kylo now looks to be completing delicate surgery, but she pauses when Hux opens the door, turning her head to look at him.

Her expression is neutral but expectant. Hux meets her eyes briefly and starts to greet her, but hesitates despite himself. It’s only been a few hours since he saw her last, after all – since shortly after dinner, when they’d bathed the children and sent them to bed. The situation doesn’t call for a formal greeting. After a slight pause, Hux asks, “How are the repairs coming?”

“Alright,” Kylo says, with a little shrug. “It’s time-consuming work, but I’m nearly there.”

“Right,” Hux says, nodding. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“No, wait,” Kylo says, frowning. “What is it?”

Hux withdraws the datapad from his coat, holding it up for Kylo to see. “This blasted thing isn’t working properly. I was hoping you might take a look at it, but if you’re busy –,”

“Hux,” Kylo says, almost in warning. That tone means _stop talking, you’re making things worse_ , if Hux isn’t mistaken. Making things worse, in this case, probably means making things more awkward than they already are. “I’ll look at it. Let me finish this up.”

Hux nods, and Kylo gives a vague wave toward the pallet of blankets in the far corner – though _far_ might be too generous, as it’s only a matter of a few feet. “It’ll just take a few minutes,” she says, already turning towards her work again.

Clearly, she means for him to make himself comfortable. Hux does, shucking his coat and sitting down, though not without some hesitation. The pallet isn’t exactly the most dignified place to sit; he might as well be sitting on the ground, which is even worse given the height of Kylo’s stool. But there’s nowhere else to sit, and he’s fully aware of how annoying it is to work with somebody standing at one’s shoulder, so he tolerates it.

The datapad still functions, though it beeps and flickers intermittently, so Hux busies himself with it. He toys with the controls briefly, but it’s difficult to focus, and it’s due only in part to failing technology. It’s not unbearably cold thanks to the portable heater that Kylo uses out here, but the howling wind keeps rattling the walls. Kylo shifts every few minutes or so, making the stool creak. From this angle, Hux can barely see her in profile, but he can read her expression well enough. She frowns and sometimes bites at her lower lip when she’s concentrating hard on something. Kylo’s biting her lip now as she carefully adjusts small wires and sensors; one of the wires refuses to cooperate, and she mutters, “Damn it.”  

Hux has always liked watching her work, though he’d be a bit ashamed to admit it. It’s both fascinating and endearing to see someone like Kylo, who typically reserves her calmer moments for when she trains or meditates, so completely set on a physical task. There’s such determination in her expression, so much power focused on such a small area, that Hux is both intrigued and charmed by it. Her hands are a bit dingy, from what Hux can see, but the line of her neck catches his attention briefly, a stark white against the darkness of her braid and tunic. He has a vague urge to go and brush the curls away from her neck – they have to be bothersome – but he’s not sure what he’d be met with if he did.

Hux might be developing some sort of bizarre psychological connection between this pallet and things like Kylo’s neck. This glorified pile of blankets has exactly one intended purpose, after all, and it has been used to that effect. Not recently, of course – no, they haven’t done much of anything recently, except brush against each other occasionally in bed or in the cramped kitchen. Hux can’t help it; he does a bit of mental math, but it’s useless. He can’t possibly pin down a date of conception – he could make an educated guess, at best, based on what Organa told him. If Kylo is about six weeks along now, Hux thinks, he’d probably be able to tell. Not through her thick winter clothes, but if he saw her without them; her stomach is generally flat enough to show even the slightest change. Hux wonders, briefly, if seeing that – the physical proof of another child – would upset him. After all, he’d made quite a show of himself over it.

He can’t quite remember why he’d been so upset. Well, that’s not true – of course he knows _why_ , logically. The reasons why he should be upset at the prospect are more than familiar to him; he’s gone over them in his head more than once in the past several days. It’s just that he can’t fathom why he thought it would be a good idea to snap at Kylo the way he did, when she was ill and already in a temper of her own. Certainly, he’d been angry with her about what happened with Brendol – and he still isn’t pleased – but he’s smarter than that, generally. He doesn’t often let emotion overcome him that way.

He’s smart enough to know that they will have to discuss it again, and soon. Tonight, perhaps, since he’s already swallowed his pride once this evening.

Kylo turns, after quite a bit longer than the promised few minutes, and looks at him. “Alright,” she says. “Bring it here.”

Hux does; Kylo looks at the device critically for a second, then says, “You know, I’m surprised you’re not determined to fix this yourself.”

“Well, you’re the one with all the tools,” Hux points out, gesturing towards her work bench, which is currently a disorganized mess. “If I could borrow them, perhaps –,”

“I’m only teasing,” Kylo says. She’s still seated, so for once she’s actually a fair bit shorter than he is, though the difference still isn’t more than a few inches. The tilt of her head as she looks up at him gives her an inherent mischievousness.

“Well, don’t,” Hux says. He can’t help it; he reaches out, on impulse, and tucks a wisp of loose hair behind her ear. “Or I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

Kylo blinks at him twice in quick succession, then grins. It’s difficult to surprise her, and Hux feels almost proud of himself for it. So proud of himself, in fact, that he gives into the itch in his chest, the little ache for Kylo, and leans in to kiss her. He keeps it brief, aware that he’s probably pushing his luck, but she doesn’t pull away from him.

“That was very forward of you,” Kylo says, once she’s opened her eyes again. “Since this is a place of business, and all.”

Hux blinks, startled by this turn of events. “I wasn’t trying to suggest anything by that,” he says. “I just – said it.”

Kylo snorts. The sound is refreshing enough that Hux almost doesn’t mind that she’s laughing directly in his face. “I know. You’ve never had a knack for roleplay.”

This isn’t exactly news, but Hux is slightly affronted nonetheless. “Not spontaneously, perhaps, but with a bit of warning –,”

“You’re being spontaneous right now,” Kylo points out. “Unless you have a plan that I don’t know about.”

“Have I ever had a plan that you didn’t know about?”

“No,” Kylo admits. She studies him for a moment, her expression somewhere between soft and totally unreadable. “So then what do you want?”

That’s an unexpected question. Hux hadn’t gone into this thinking that he _wanted_ something specific. He’d like anything, really, to fill the space in him that’s squirming, needful. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do,” Kylo says. She reaches up and cups his cheek briefly with one hand; Hux wrinkles his nose at the smell of grease on her skin even as he leans into the touch. It’s the last bit of tenderness she’ll show him, at least for the moment, and he doesn’t intend to waste it. “On your knees.”

Hux goes willingly, though the ground is hard and cold even through the thick fabric of his trousers. Kylo looks down at him for a moment, then offers one booted foot as though to say _well, get on with it_. Hux complies, unbuckling and removing her boots and socks with fingers made clumsy with cold and eagerness. Kylo has to do an odd, shimmying maneuver to get her leggings down far enough for him to tug them off; it’s awkward, graceless, but Hux doesn’t mind.

He puts his hands on her outer thighs, urging them to part for him, and Kylo reaches down to slide her fingers through his hair. “Someone’s eager,” she comments. “It’s almost like you missed me.”

“Missed you?” Hux says, teasing even as he is slightly confused by this statement. “You’ve been here this whole time.”

Kylo rolls her eyes like he’s said something especially obtuse, but she lifts one bare leg and hooks it over his shoulder. Hux kisses her thigh, which she allows. “Eager and mouthy.”

“Pun intended, I’m sure,” Hux says, muffled against her skin.

Kylo gives his hair a little tug in warning, but she’s trying not to smile. “Watch it,” she says. “Or I’ll throw you out in the cold.”

It’s an empty threat, of course, but it spurs Hux into action nonetheless. He kisses his way up her thighs, sucks bruises into the pale flesh, until he’s given permission in the form of her hand tugging him where she wants him. He doesn’t need to be told twice; flirting is one thing, but he’d rather not test Kylo’s patience, or he’ll be gambling with his own satisfaction. It’s not hard to make her come. He’d thought it might take some finesse, but Kylo’s in a good mood, visibly relaxing under his touch. Her smirk is evidence enough of that, as is the way she leans back against her workbench, arches her spine, and lets him carry on.

It’s only once Kylo’s come twice that she tilts her head back up to look at him, then straightens up on the stool. He hardly notices, following her with his mouth – more carefully now – but it’s impossible not to pay attention when she uses her grip on his hair to pull him away. She tugs his head back, forcing him to look up at her. Hux licks his lips, just far gone enough to revel in the attention.

As though satisfied by this display, Kylo dismounts from the stool and releases his hair, then pads lightly to the pallet. Hux follows, ridding himself of his boots as quickly and gracefully as he can – so, far more quickly than gracefully. Kylo waits, lounging on her side on the pallet, still wearing her tunic. When Hux lowers himself down next to her, she doesn’t give him a chance to get comfortable before she hooks a leg around his waist and bowls him over onto his back, straddling him in the process. Her weight is pleasantly oppressive; Hux barely has time to wonder if she’ll hold him down before his wrists are dragged out to his sides, then pinned to the blankets by an invisible set of hands. He strains against the bonds instinctively, testing her hold, but receives only a smug look for his troubles.

Kylo seems content to torture him for a while now, licking the taste of herself from his mouth and suckling at his neck and refusing to do anything in the way of actual satisfaction. Hux can’t decide whether he loathes it or not. _I’m only teasing_ , he remembers her saying, with an accompanying burst of affection and frustration. She tolerates it when he rocks his hips up against her, perhaps because it pleases her as well, but once his breath grows short, she bites his neck hard in admonishment.

“Careful, General,” she says. He shivers – half at the use of his former title, and half at the feeling of his pants unbuttoning themselves, a sensation which he will literally never get used to. “Did you think I was finished with you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Hux says dryly, though the effect of this is marred by the way he shivers when she wraps a palm around him and twists, just so. Kylo knows how he likes to be touched, of course, after all this time; she exploits this knowledge now, giving him almost but not quite enough.

“You’re lucky to be getting anything at all,” she says, gentling her grip. “After all, you’re the one who’s supposed to be paying me.”

Admittedly, this part of roleplay – since that is apparently what they’re doing now – can prove tricky; Hux is more than fine with dirty talk, but there’s a fine line between filth and something that sounds like it was pulled from one of the ancient, cringe-inducing holoporn drives which got passed around the barracks in his youth. Refusing to ruminate on any such thing while Kylo is this close to him and undoubtedly privy to what he’s thinking, Hux decides to press on. “I could repay you further,” he says, “but you’d have to let me go, and you don’t want that.”

“No,” Kylo agrees thoughtfully, slowing the motion of her hand even further. “And you want it even less.” Hux lifts his hips as best he can, trying to urge her on, but she seems almost to be losing interest. She’s not, really, but he knows what will happen if he doesn’t cooperate; he feels a thrill of preemptive shame at the thought of being abandoned like this, at her mercy. He starts to rock up against her hand again, but she lets go before he gets the chance.  

“Kylo,” he says, almost in protest.

He doesn’t expect a response – he expects her to know, instinctively, what he means. “What?” she says, going still.

Hux blinks at her a few times, dazed but now oddly grateful for the reprieve. It seems important, somehow, to say something genuine. “Nothing,” he says finally. “I just – I suppose I did miss you. In a way.”

 _But you already knew that_ , he thinks, and Kylo smiles, pleased in a way he doesn’t have time to analyze. She kisses him and then shifts on top of him, letting him inside her in one easy motion. Hux whimpers a bit against her mouth, but she’s merciful enough not to call him on it, though he can feel her smiling.

He doesn’t have a prayer of lasting; it’s all he can do to rock his hips up to meet hers with what little leverage he has. Her face is still close to his, close enough that the huffs of her little gasps tickle his cheek. He turns his head, trying to catch her lips with his, but she’s already shifting, leaning down to kiss the bite mark she’d left moments before. She nips at the tender skin, roughly enough to make him jerk away from her even as he comes, gasping.

After a moment or two, Hux notices that the pressure at his wrists has been lifted, although Kylo is still on top of him, kissing lazily at his throat. Hux takes that for permission and worms one hand between their bodies to find her clit. He coaxes her to another small climax while he’s still inside her, albeit oversensitive and spent, and she whimpers softly in his ear.

Kylo lingers on top of him afterwards, her face now tucked into the crook of his neck. Hux can feel the flutter of her breaths there, a ticklish sensation which isn’t helped by the fact that her weight restricts his breathing quite a bit. Finally, she has mercy on him and clambers off, before settling next to him and drawing an errant blanket over herself.

“You could share,” Hux suggests after a moment, adjusting his pants before rolling to face her. Kylo huffs, but it’s without real irritation. She allots Hux half of the blanket, clearly too comfortable to complain. Hux feels the insistent tug of post-coital drowsiness, trying to coax him under, but he props himself up on one elbow and powers through it. They can’t sleep out here – or at least, Kylo can’t, although Hux supposes if something were to actually happen to the children, she’d probably feel it anyway. He’s seen her rise from a dead sleep for less.

Kylo has her eyes closed, seemingly dozing, but Hux lets her alone. He’s able to study her better now that she’s in repose. Her cheeks are still flushed softly pink, though it’s too cold for much sweat to have accumulated. She looks healthier than usual, though perhaps that’s only temporary.

After a moment or two of this, Kylo opens her eyes, looking a great deal more alert than Hux would have expected – but still a bit soft, somehow. “You’re usually the one chastising me about staring.”

“Sorry,” Hux says, though he doesn’t avert his eyes. There’s nowhere else to look, really – nowhere of importance, at least. “I was just – wondering how you’re feeling.”

Now Kylo looks a bit guarded; Hux isn’t hard-pressed to imagine why. “Alright,” she says. “Today was better.”

Hux had expected as much. He’d noticed her actually eating at dinner, rather than picking at her food. “Good. That’s good.”

She looks at him for a long moment, no doubt perusing his thoughts. Hux feels his cheeks heat under the attention, but he doesn’t break eye contact. “What?”

“Just making sure you’re not still upset with me,” Kylo says, her tone mild. “Or at least, not too upset with me.”

“You haven’t gathered that yet?” Hux asks dryly. “I thought it was rather obvious.”

“Whether or not we have sex is not a reliable metric for how angry we are with one another,” Kylo says, which is – fair enough. “I suppose I should ask how _you’re_ feeling. I know it helps you, sometimes, to – verbalize things.”

“That’s an interesting way of saying that I prefer not to be read like a book,” Hux says, shifting onto his back again. “Don’t condescend.”

“Hux,” Kylo says, taking up his former position by turning onto her side. She reaches out, but looks uncertain of how she wants to touch him; finally, she rests her hand palm down on his chest. The contact makes the ache flair up again, that urge to be close to her – perhaps she’s aware of it, then. Perhaps she feels it, too.

 _We have a bond, you know_ , he remembers her telling him once, long ago – whispering it to him in the dark of their house at night. _It goes both ways, believe it or not. A connection._ One which he can’t feel, of course.

“Don’t _do_ that,” Kylo says, distracting Hux from this line of thinking. _Do what_ , he almost says, but she carries on talking. “Just – tell me what you want me to do.”

He’s surprised by the depth of emotion in her voice; Kylo can get a bit teary, sometimes, when she’s overrun with hormones, but she’s usually not so easily set off. Then again, Hux supposes, this has probably been building for days now. He’s not the only one who’s been walking on eggshells.

“Kylo,” Hux says, nevertheless genuinely startled. “Darling.”

She seems flustered by her own reaction, her cheeks pinkening. This, at least, is normal. “Don’t ‘darling’ me. Just say the word. If you want me to.”

He knows what she’s talking about, of course. He’d have to be a fool not to. He’s been reminded of it every time she’s woken him up in the morning to stumble, bleary-eyed, to the refresher – every time he’s wanted to go check on her but hasn’t, for fear of being turned away. Both of the children have asked why Kylo’s been so pale, so tired; Hux has said nothing, but they’re far cleverer than he remembers to give them credit for sometimes. He’s reminded of it every time he starts to turn to her into the night but doesn’t, too proud – too ashamed – to initiate the contact.

“I want what you want,” Hux says finally, because it’s the truth. Kylo may be able to sense what he’s feeling before he even realizes it himself, but that doesn’t mean that admitting it isn’t worthwhile. He has to remind himself of that, every now and then. “That will always be the case.”

Kylo’s fingers clench a bit in the fabric of Hux’s sweater; Hux reaches up, almost instinctively, and rests his hand over hers. “You mean that?”

“Of course,” Hux says. “Feel it. You know that I do.”

Kylo pauses, but Hux suspects she’s using the time to compose herself as much as is to gauge his feelings. “I thought you would,” she says finally. “But I wasn’t sure if – if it would be because that’s how you felt, or because that’s how I wanted you to feel.”

“I came around,” Hux says. “You were right. But don’t go getting a big head about it – I have a condition.”

Kylo frowns. “Well, spit it out.”

“I get to name this one,” Hux says. “And no snooping around in my head once I settle on something. It’s to be a surprise, because I know otherwise you’ll try to change my mind.”

Kylo snorts, looking half-startled by her own amusement. Hux laughs, too – though he’s quite serious. While he doesn’t hold any lingering qualms about his children’s names, he’d just sort of gone along with Kylo’s whims when the time came. If they’re going to have another one, he might as well assert his claim over its name early – it’ll save them a great deal of bickering over the next several months. “Fine,” Kylo says, still snickering. “But I’ll never forgive you if it’s ugly.”

“The name or the child?”

Kylo gives him a shove in rebuke, but a gentle one. “Shut up,” she says, smiling, then shifts to lie down more fully. Hux turns onto his side to face her obligingly, but keeps hold of her hand, between their chests.

Kylo’s expression drifts from fond to pensive, seemingly with the flow of her thoughts. “I think something will be different about this child,” she says after a moment.

“It’s not twins, is it?” Hux says, only half kidding. “I think that might be biting off just a bit more than we can chew –,”

“Don’t be ridiculous – it’s not twins.”

“It’s hardly ridiculous,” Hux says, rolling his eyes. “There’s precedent. But if that’s not it, then – what? Something bad?”

“No,” Kylo says, still looking rather thoughtful. “I mean – I don’t know. Different than before, at least.”

“Well, that could mean anything,” Hux points out, growing impatient with her mystical soul-searching. There are some things that simply can’t be determined by _feeling_ it out. “But short of seeing a doctor, I don’t know anything for it. Which reminds me – you’re supposed to be taking iron supplements.”

“Where the hell am I going to find iron supplements?”

That’s a fair question; the handful of traders that blow through every few months usually come bearing various medicines – always in demand in a rural area like this – but the odds of rustling up a prenatal vitamin are slim. “Well, I suppose your mother could –,”

“No,” Kylo says immediately. “There’s no sense bothering her over it. I’ll just – I don’t know. Eat more meat or something.”

Well, that would probably help, but Hux is now unfortunately more interested in Kylo’s reaction to the mention of Organa. “I thought the two of you parted on good terms,” he says, eyeing her. “At least – it seemed that way.”

“We did,” Kylo says. Hux believes her, although he’s still fairly certain that even if they _did_ part on good terms, it still wasn’t a comfortable goodbye for either of them. Hux had certainly felt more awkward around Organa than usual in the aftermath of the interview with his father, and that’s saying something. “I’m surprised you’re advocating for this. I figured never again would be too soon for you and my mother.”

“I don’t relish the idea, but I assure you, I’ll be fine,” Hux says dryly. “Besides, I’m not the one who punched a Resistance prisoner in the face.”

Hux knows as he finishes speaking that he shouldn’t have said it that way – he’d been too accusatory, even if he hadn’t meant to be. Kylo’s jaw clenches briefly, her expression stung. “You know why I did it,” she says quietly.

“I know, he provoked you,” Hux says. Not wanting to break the calm they’ve only just found, he carries on, “But it’s done. There’s really no use –,”

“I didn’t do it because of me,” Kylo says flatly. “I did it for you.”

“I never asked you to do anything of the sort,” Hux interjects. He’s trying to keep a lid on things, truly, but he’s not about to let Kylo insinuate that he wanted her to do something as foolish as attacking Brendol in front of Organa. He knows he’s entirely at fault for getting them into that room in the first place, and he’s come to terms with that, but things had gone about as well as he could’ve expected until Kylo’s overreaction –

“He got what he deserved,” Kylo says fiercely. Her expression is still vaguely hurt, but there’s a sudden fervency in her gaze – Hux has well and truly got her going now. She’s still clutching his hand, though, so she can’t be too upset with him. “I could give a fuck what the old man said to me. But he hurt you, and I hurt him back.”

“Brendol didn’t even touch me, he couldn’t’ve even if he wanted to –,”

“The things he said, the way he spoke to you!” Kylo snaps. “I know it got under your skin, I know you hear him in your dreams –,”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hux says coldly, and something about the tone of his voice seems to draw Kylo up short. Hux stares at the wall beyond Kylo’s head, unwilling to look at her lest he give away just how unsettled her words have made him; it’s impossible to truly hide, but eye contact doesn’t help. He forgets, sometimes, that Kylo can share his dreams, both voluntarily and involuntarily. How many times in the past week has she heard the world _useless_ echoing through his dreams, when his conscious mind couldn’t push it away?

“You see,” Kylo says finally. “It’s you that’s been gone, not me.”

Hux swallows. It seems pointless to refute it, but really admitting to it is still a step too far, somehow. “I’ve been angry, yes.”

“Not just angry,” Kylo says, letting go of his hand to touch his face, to make him look at her. “You haven’t been yourself, not since Leia first brought him up. But I couldn’t let you – pull away the way you did, in that moment. I didn’t think.”

“Shocker,” Hux says, a knee-jerk reaction, and Kylo scoffs under her breath. She’s still touching his cheek, but Hux doesn’t protest it, even though there’s probably a lovely mixture of grease and bodily fluids on her fingers by now.

“I’m sorry because I upset my mother,” Kylo says, after a moment of quiet. “But I’m not sorry I hit him. I’d do it again.”

“I know you would,” Hux replies. “I think – under different circumstances – I would’ve let you.”

Strangely, this particular admission doesn’t feel as shameful as Hux might’ve expected it to; it’s no secret that he doesn’t love his father, and it’s really far less complicated than Kylo’s relationship with _her_ father ever was. And in the minutes after his father had hit the floor – when Kylo had stumbled from the room and a droid was tending to Brendol – Hux hadn’t been able to completely deny a strange and undeniable sense of triumph. He’d felt nothing at all when Organa’s medical droid had pronounced his father concussed and his jaw dislocated, though Brendol himself had never dealt such a lasting physical injury. Even now, Hux feels no regret that Brendol was injured, no pity – only an odd desire to check on his children again.

“I know you would,” Kylo says, drawing Hux’s attention back to her once more. She kisses him briefly then, as if to bring him back to her fully – which must’ve been her aim all along, really. When they part, she adds, “The children are fine. But we should go in soon, in case they wake up.”

Hux nods, and Kylo goes quiet, seemingly satisfied. Hux is glad the conversation is over, though part of him also knows it had to happen. It’s something of a relief, having everything out in the open – or at least, more out in the open than before. It feels like he’s been carrying that word around, _useless_ , for days.

For a while they simply lie there, halfway intertwined, until Kylo nudges Hux from his doze with a murmured, “Don’t fall asleep, or we’ll never get up.” Hux is sleepy enough to rather like the sound of that, but the lure of his much warmer bed is powerful enough to have him hunting for his boots and coat.

They dress in silence, but when they slip back into the house moments later, it’s hand-in-hand.    


End file.
